


A Collection of Memories

by Static_melody



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7338388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Static_melody/pseuds/Static_melody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of memories, all canon-compliant and pretty romantic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Collection of Memories

**Author's Note:**

> an elleo fic that's not full of angst? unheard of!

There was the time that you met him in the library. His shoulders were hunched, back to the shelf. At first, you thought you’d come across some weird sort of houseplant. You soon learned that even a houseplant would have more respect for you and your title.  
“So what?” he scoffed, turning the page carefully, “I’m reading. Leave me alone.”  
You couldn’t leave him alone, though. You asked him what he was reading and he didn’t reply. You asked him again and he told you to fuck off.  
You left the orphanage in quite the bad mood.

There was the time you caught him playing piano. He wasn’t exactly struggling, but he wasn’t exactly thriving, either. You hung by the doorway in what you had figured to be the best course of action. You knew him a little by then and knew it was best to stay the room’s length away until he invited you closer. He finished his song. He took a deep breath, cracked his knuckles. You clapped for him. He seemed pissed off. You offered him advice. He said he didn’t ask for it and what kind of asshole offers unwarranted advice just because he thinks he’s better than everyone else and he didn’t need your help.

There was the time he asked for help. He explained to you that he was writing a song (not The Song but an important first nonetheless) and that he needed your help. Then, he explained to you that the grin you were wearing made you look like an idiot. You helped him anyway because you had realized by then that Leo just specialized in insults. As you were playing out what he had written, you paused. You looked over at him and told him it was good.  
“Maybe we should play a duet someday.”  
You were never sure which of you said it.

There was the duet. The first time you got it right. The final note was struck and you sat in silence, wondering how in the world you could work so well with another person. Like one singular unit, like a well-oiled machine. You turned to look at him. He smiled at you. You were so happy that you could kiss him. It was at that moment that you realized that you really wanted to.  
“Nice work,” he said simply.  
You found the lack of an insult almost charming.

There was the proposition. You asked him and he said he wouldn’t. Leo was a loner, Leo wasn’t suited to the life of a servant, Leo wasn’t going to belong to anyone. Then, he reconsidered. He said he wanted to see the library you had often told him about, but that was mostly an excuse. Mostly.

There was the kiss. In the library, behind a bookshelf in the very back. You had pulled him close and it was twilight and your heart was pounding and he felt tense in your arms. Then, he leaned in, unsteady, and you felt almost sick. You were dizzy in the moment, and you slowly pulled away, and you stared down at him. He was hazy for a moment, unfocused and relaxed, and then he reaches past you and grabs a book off the shelf.  
“Let’s read it together,” he started to walk away, expecting you to follow.

There was the move. You managed to get one of the few double-dorms, a neat room that wouldn’t be neat for long on the second floor. It was smaller than you were used to, but you were just glad to be sharing it with Leo.  
“Thank God we’re alone,” he mumbled.  
It struck you that Leo still wanted to be left alone, but he wanted to be left alone with you. You were flattered, to say the least.

There was the time you called him your boyfriend. You were explaining to him how he couldn’t let anyone know that they were boyfriends and--  
“Did you just say boyfriends?”  
You stated that you had kissed before. He said that didn’t matter. You said that was fine and asked him to be your boyfriend.He said he wouldn’t. Leo was a loner, Leo wasn’t suited to being someone’s other half, Leo wasn’t going to belong to anyone. Then, he reconsidered. He made no excuses this time. 

There was the time he crawled into your bed after dark. You woke flustered, and you caught just a glimpse of him. He said nothing, but burrowed under your sheets quietly.  
“What do you want?” You asked, only a little peeved. He rested his head against your chest in response. You took the risk of wrapping your arms around him, pulling him closer. He kissed you for the second time, only briefly, and you felt warm and safe and content.

There was the time you walked in on him crying. He had hurriedly wiped his face, put his glasses back on, turned away. You asked him if he was okay. He said he just had allergies. You told him not to lie to you, so he stopped speaking whatsoever. He sat on his bed and read for the rest of the night, but you couldn’t shake the worry. Then, at night, when he ventured to your bed, he buried his face in your chest and cried again. You held him, stroked his hair, and whispered to him. You asked him what it was, and he collected himself, but never told you.

There was a daydream. You were sitting together underneath a tree somewhere on your family’s land, and you were stargazing. His head was against your shoulder, your arm was around his waist. You closed your eyes, leaning against him. You were struck by an urge to ask right then.  
“Do you wanna get married someday?” You asked him, not moving. You felt him freeze up briefly, and then he relaxed again. He nodded slowly, cautiously. He told you that he would like that. He would really, really like that.


End file.
